


Malfunctioning, and a Bitch to Clean

by Stidean



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, M/M, Pre-Slash, Rickyl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3643836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stidean/pseuds/Stidean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl has wings. It's not a big deal, though.<br/>Pre-Slash/Pre-Rickyl.<br/>More info in the Author's Notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Malfunctioning, and a Bitch to Clean

**Author's Note:**

> This is the only contribution I'll ever be able to make to this fandom, and to this pairing in particular. Mostly because I refuse to subject myself to the actual show and have vowed never to do so since it first came out. If I ever wanted to be absolutely devastated all the time, in incredibly awful and heart-wrenching ways, I'd work at a hospital (case in point, Hershel & Beth Greene, to just kick off a list). The Daryl in this story is quite OOC, in that he isn't a feral cat, and is actually kinda open. Some of it has to do with the fact that I changed a few things for him and his past experiences, of which we know little, canonically, as far as I've been informed, anyways.  
> The details have been inspired by this Tumblr post:  
> http://pickedyou.tumblr.com/post/70705886976/tifent-scientists-say-that-if-a-human-had  
> And this image that accompanied it:  
> [Sunrise](http://pickedyou.deviantart.com/art/Sunrise-421223030) by [PickedYou](http://pickedyou.deviantart.com/) on [DeviantArt](http://www.deviantart.com)

It had started as a local curiosity. Then quickly a national phenomenon. Then an international one. And finally died down in obscurity with age.  
You’d think a baby with wings would get more lasting attention but by the age of 35, people outside the county had mostly forgotten about Daryl Dixon and he was happy about that. Then the story was picked up again by some Discovery Channel style documentary makers.  
  
“They don’t work, if that’s what you’re wondering.”  
  
“Hm, wha?” Rick was pulled out of his stupor. Seeing a guy in a motorcycle, riding rather lazily down the highway, with giant wings was not something you take in your stride, no matter how much you’ve heard about it in advance. “You say something, Shane?”  
  
“The wings. They don’t work. They’re all purty and evr’thin’, but they don’t work. Massive fuckers, though. Not like… angel shit, like in church pictures, where they look like they carryin’ closet doors on their backs. Turns out human wingspan is supposed to be huge if it were to ever actually getcha off the ground.”  
  
“How the hell do you even know any of that?” Rick asks, dumbfounded Shane even knew terms like wingspan.  
  
“It was in that docu they made ‘bout ‘em like 10 years back. Made a mess for us as well as him. Had ‘wing-tourists’ coming out the wazoo. People lining up right around here all down the road, like we are now, ‘cause it’s his morning commute to his brother’s garage. People wanting to see the angel. He didn’ give a shit. Never stopped to give’em any mind. Never talked to anyone, though I did hear it bothered him that every time they come out his back, he’s gotta slow down, cause they so massive, they’re almost like sails. Took so many accidents before he realized how to ride with ‘em. Stubborn, if nothin’ else. His Dad hated him somn’ fierce. All those injuries didn’ help, I guess.”  
  
“Why did they line up here? Why none of ‘em follow his ass around town?”  
  
“Cause these days they almost never come out. See, they ain’t always visible. It’s like… I don’t know, it’s some science fiction, Dr. Who shit about trans-dimensional…”  
  
“Whoa, whoa. How the hell do you know any of these words?!”  
  
“Well, Amy likes that shit. A LOT. You kinda end up hearing ‘bout it whether you want to or not.”  
  
“How’s it going with you and Andrea?”  
  
“I don’t know. She’s getting bored, I think. Don’t blame her, though. It’s 4 A.M., I’m on night patrol, and I’m closer to having sex with you than her.”  
  
“Yeah… no. Anyways, it’s been 15 years. I doubt she’s gonna pack up Laura and leave.”  
  
“Yeah, I know. I don’t think she’d do that either, but if she did… I don’t know. I wouldn’t have the heart to blame her, even though she’s my kid too. So, what was I - oh, yeah. See, they, I don’t know, they, like, disappear. The wings. They’re not attached to him. And they only come out when, I don’t know, I guess when he’s excited or shit. Can’t imagine fucking him would be very comfortable. He’d always have to be on top. In wide, open spaces.”  
  
“So…” Rick took a pause for the ridiculous comment to sink in “anyways… so, they only got to see them when he was riding down here in godless hours?”  
  
“Yeah. I mean, we still get some people coming down to see him from time to time. Every time the docu is on somewhere around the country: they see it, google it, go “Holy SHIT! We gotta see this shit ourselves!” They come down here, make a bit of a mess, set their fat asses all up and down the road, get to see it, and then leave. Tha’s it. Shame they don’t work, though. According to the docu they SHOULD theoretically work. Tha’s why they’re so big. They’re supposed to function. They did a fuckton of tests on the poor guy, for years. Some worried he’d “go missing”, you know what I mean? Just get taken away and pronounced dead, to get vivisected or some shit. The Vatican sent someone, as well, but his Pa’ sent them packing. Almost punched the guy. Bottom line is, though, they don’t work. Guess his Pa’ did manage to beat it outta him… in a way.”  
  
“His Dad didn’t like any of it?”  
  
“Nah. He said it branded him a queer to be so, and this is a direct quote but ain’t no one know where he pulled that shit from, ‘ostentatious’. He whooped that boy every once in a while till Merle got sick and tired of it. Took ‘em away. Eventually interest died down, when the wings stopped showing up… unless he was coming down this way or he got a really good order of coffee or somn’. And then he’d clear a whole fuckin’ diner because the fuckers decided to come out to play. Man, when old man Greene’s kid made that call… God. I can’t believe you missed all that shit cause you was plain’ big city cop at the time.”  
  
“Yeah. Well. I’m here now, aren’t I?” Rick responded somewhat bitterly. Moving away from Lori felt like the right thing after the divorce, but then she ended up dying while having Judith, which made being angry at her very hard, despite the fact she had kept the pregnancy a secret, fearing he’d make the divorce more difficult. Lori had wanted a clean break. “So, yeah, Beth called you and…”  
  
“Nah. This was Maggie. She was screaming down the line. Asked us to come down. Apparently she wasn’t aware of any of it till the fuckers crashed through the diner’s front windows after he took that first sip. The Greenes’ were still new to the town. They got caught in this middle ground where people just assumed they must know about Daryl. Anyways. He was stuck. He had no way of leaving the place, until he calmed down enough for them to go away cause there was no way for him to get out of there that would accommodate those things. Meanwhile he’s clearing off entire counters, asking Maggie not to shoot him with the shotgun she keeps under the till. When we got there he was just sitting down in the middle of the diner, shotgun pointed at him, cool as a cucumber. The wings were gone by then but Maggie insisted he wait till the cops showed up. Was a mess to explain to her. She thought we were all in on some kind of prank. Now she’s extra nice to him because of that whole thing.”  
  
“And what about his wife –“  
  
“Nah. He don’t work that way. His father might have been a sonov’a’cunt but he got one thing right. Daryl’s gay as, well… not Christmas, unless Christmas gets taken over by the Georgia chapter of the Hell’s Angels, but still. Gay. Lonely bastard, too.”  
  
“How the hell do you know so much about him, anyways?”  
  
“Maggie’s step-brother, Shawn. He used to date em’… before he died. This weird sort of cancer. So, Shawn tells Maggie, Maggie tells Andrea, Andrea tells me… I think she just wanted me to be more sympathetic to the guy. I mean, it’s not his fault he has strange groupies.”  
  


* * *

  
Next time Rick sees Daryl, he’s alone on patrol, Shane having called in sick. Small town, so the rules can bend a little. Besides. Ain’t no one gonna volunteer for that shit at 11 P.M. when Shane calls it in. Rick stops Daryl, and funnily enough, he doesn’t see any signs of irritation coming off the man. Just a resigned sigh. No wings this time, and Rick just now wonders what would happen if a truck came barreling down the opposite side of the road, if the wings were spanning sideways rather than towering behind him. Especially if he has little control over them, as Shane says. Would he stop completely and stand sideways till it passed? Would he try to get them to pin back? And would it spook the driver coming ahead? As he’s having these thoughts a small smile creeps up which Daryl mistakenly perceives as smugness.  
  
“License and registration, Sir.”  
  
“New guy, I’m guessing.” Rick feels affronted, and he has no idea why, since he is, actually, the new guy.  
  
“License and registration, Sir.”  
  
“A’right. No need to get pissy.” Daryl retorts, with a defensive tone. “So, was I over the speed limit? Guessing no, since I never go over 35 due to my condition. An 80 year old with asthma on a hippity-hop could gimme a run for mah’ money. So ‘am guessing this is a ‘random check-up’. At least that’s what you’ll report. Goddamn Shane... can’t keep his damn mouth to himself…” Daryl surmises, with no real malice.  
  
“O.K. I do admit I was somewhat curious. How come they’re not out tonight?”  
  
“It’s not a sure bet. I still don’t speed up, though. In case they do pop out.”  
  
“Yeah. I gathered. They don’t work, though, right?”  
  
“No. Never have and probably never will. They expand, they contract. I just can’t get them to do it when I want them to.”  
  
“Are you always this forthcoming with information about your… condition?” Rick preferred to use Daryl’s own term, so as not to offend.  
  
“No. Felt like making an exception with you, though.” Rick decides to push his luck a bit further.  
  
“Since you’re in such a generous mood, let me ask you something else. Have they EVER worked?”  
  
“Once or twice. Well, twice. Oddly ‘nough I didn’t have nothing to do with it. Maggie’s step-brother gottem to work. He just started thinking ‘bout ‘em flappin’ and they flapped. I rose off the ground. Stayed up there a few seconds. He panicked and lost concentration and I fell. Nearly broke my neck both times. He stopped trying after that, no matter how much I begged for him to try again.”  
  
“That wasn’t in the documentary they made about you.”  
  
“That’s cause I didn’ cooperate with ‘em. Chapped their asses somn’ fierce cause they couldn’t get a handle on me, and my files were confidential. All the information was eye witness accounts and guesswork. They got ‘nough to get people to come all the way here and harass the locals, though. Mah friends. Didn’t make me popular for a while. Not till Merle told’em all at a town meetin’ to go fuck themselves if they think that living with the attention I’ve been living with all my life for, like, 2 weeks, was a good nuff reason to shun me. Guess they realized it wasn’t like I was asking for it.”  
  
“The jacket doesn’t help much,” Rick commented with mirth, “Like advertising.”  
  
“Ah, but you got it backwards. This here is ma Grandpapi’s. Somn’ he and his army buddies got. I had to pry it off my Daddy’s cold hands. Merle was supposed to get it but he knew mah Grandpapi wanted me to have it: he thought it was a sign, that’ah was born the way I did.”  
  
“I’m still curious as to why you’d share all this with me. You don’t know me. I could be someone wanting to write about you as well.”  
  
“Right. Spend decades with the force only to come here to get my trust so you can write some two-bit story about me? Nah. Don’t think so. ‘sides, you’re good people by association; small town. We’re all friends.”  
  
“How do you know how long I’ve been a cop? I’m new. Maybe I’m not just new to the town but also to the job.”  
  
“Hey. Ya ain’t the only one with friends.” And with that, papers back in hand, Daryl drives off.


End file.
